


Trips, kittens and fireplaces

by selunchen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blue Balls, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Wedding, drunk, in a a span of 8 hours, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 21:25:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15058112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selunchen/pseuds/selunchen
Summary: “Listen. It might be unprofessional of me to say this and stuff. It is one thing for you to be a dick to me -” His eyebrows rise in astonishment “- but, there’s no need to sustain the dicking around your perfectly good friends and table mates. Take some advice from someone who bartends weddings a lot. You will regret that whiskey I just poured you. Drink.the.water.”Aka. Ben Solo goes to a wedding and falls for the bartender because she is mean to him.





	Trips, kittens and fireplaces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ria84](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ria84/gifts).



> Prompt by Riaria84
> 
> Fluff, needs to include a trip, a kitten and a fireplace
> 
> and it became an 8000 word rant. Enjoy.

Florida.

 

Why did they have to host their wedding in Florida?

 

Florida!?

 

In July!?

 

Ben angrily shifts in his seat as he shuts the car door with perhaps more force than necessary and twists the A/C to max. The sweat on his brow trails a path down his cheek and the relatively new and expensive car struggles to fan the heat off him.

 

The hot summer sun burns his skin even through the car window, so he shifts the gear into drive and hurries away from the gas station. He beginsto count the hours - eager to get this over with.

 

8 hours and it would be over.

 

8 hours and he could go to sleep in a room, sweat out his hangover and then drive back to the airport, buy a ticket to New York and get the hell out of this ridicules part of the country. Why was it so hot here?

 

Ben loosens his tie ever so slightly and curses at the couple for dictating semi-formal dress code for a wedding in _Florida - in July!_

 

He hopes and prays that Hux gets a sunburn so bad it blisters.

 

-

 

The ceremony is beautiful of course. The priest officiates the couple beneath a gigantic Bald Cypress. The sun flickering through its leaves and envelops them in a golden halo. It looked stunning. However, Ben would never tell a living soul.

 

He ponders, as he watches from the white lawn chairs - Hux placing the ring on Phasma’s finger - how it doesn’t surprise him that these two, even in the summer heat, manage to look so put together.

 

Ben can smell the sweat of the guys sitting next to him and a few of the girls on the row behind him fan themselves frantically in an effort to at least look somewhat presentable for the reception afterward.

 

Hux and Phasma are made for each other. Hux with his slick red hair pulled back and Phasma in her white tight fitting tuxedo (of course she wore a tuxedo). There’s a strange affection between them, no power imbalance. No disrespect. Only ambition and determination. She towers over Hux and she is the one who leans down to plant a kiss, but he doesn’t mind. Hux doesn’t mind, because Hux isn’t intimidated. He almost thrives in the oddness, in his affluence and contentment with the situation.

 

Ben is not sure if it is love or just simply perfect compatibility. He is certain that Hux could love someone more than he does Phasma and vice versa, but they would never find anyone who matches them so well, as they do each other.

 

Perhaps all-consuming love is overrated in all of this?

 

-

 

The ceremony was swift and while they take pictures at the lake, the guests dive right into cocktail hour, feeling the effects of alcohol immediately now that they are all semi-dehydrated. A young female dark-haired bartender attempt to see to that by walking around handing out bottles of water. Most people accept it.

 

Poe Dameron is talking Ben’s ear off, but Ben has always had a talent for seeming interested and engaged in conversation, despite not being either. It’s perhaps one of the only virtues and graces from his mother he has seems to have inherited.

 

In general,  Ben finds himself much more like his father. Blunt, direct and with an innate ability to piss anyone off. He hates it. The rich and beautiful often see through it. The rich and the beautiful who attend the wedding today.

 

He closes his eyes for a brief second and tunes out Dameron’s insistent blapper, when they are interrupted by said bartender.

 

“Can I get you guys anything?”

 

Ben sighs and doesn’t say anything coherent, but manage to mumble a no. He can hear Poe’s smile when he replies “Don’t mind him. He’s just a bitter old man! I’d like that water please” Ben eyes blink open, giving Poe a decidedly unpleasant glare. “...and your phone number too.”

 

The bartender smiles at him brightly and before she can answer, Ben decides to open his stupid mouth. “I know you have stolen those teeth from a much better-looking model Dameron, but no need to make this _waitress_ more unprofessional than she already is.”

 

He’s lucky he’s tall so he doesn’t immediately notice the woman’s furrowing brows and what must actually be an extremely professional mindset because s _he does not kick him in the shins_ at _that_ comment. From the corner of his eye, he can see how Poe gives her an apologetic smile and slips her his business card.

 

Ben downs his whiskey.

 

7 hours to go.

 

-

 

Hux clings at the glass of champagne in his hand, signaling the beginning of the reception. Finally Ben can get some food. He didn’t manage to buy anything at the gas station worth defiling his mouth with, so he is slightly tipsy when they finally manage to settle down at the tables.

 

The decor is understated, black on white with pink/purple flowers decorating the center. It should clash, but it doesn’t because it’s Hux and Phasma. The couple who has an ice-blue couch in their living room and it looks like that couch could never be any other color. _Ice-blue._

 

Luckily he sits at a table where most people already somehow know each other, which means he doesn’t have to talk.

 

Ben recognizes some from college, where he had met Hux and others from Hux’s department at work.

 

It looks like a couples table because most either share the same last name or act overly familiar. Ben notices a beautiful brunette pull out the chair next to him.

 

Of course, they’d try to set him up.

 

He loosens his collar and goes about this his usual way - downing the glass of wine and relents to conversing and engaging in small talk with his now ‘’+1’’. He is here for a few hours, at least he could try to get something out of it. At least get Hux and Phasma off his back for not trying

 

Bazine was it?

 

-

 

While the table is fully loaded with red- and white wine, Ben finds himself in need of something much stronger, if he is ever going to survive the rest of the night.

 

Managing to pause the deeply uninteresting conversation he has with Bazine on the local make-up academy, Ben sets off with determination. He pushes the chair back and aims straight for the open bar. Never asking if he should bring anything to the table.

 

A dark-skinned young man and a girl with a half ponytail are bartending and converse lively with each other as he approaches the white-painted wooden counter. Ben catches the eye of the girl, noticing their hazel color, only for her to quickly turn her back to him and motion for the guy to wait on him instead.

 

Weird.

 

“Whisky neat” he orders.

 

The man nods and twirls around to grab the nearest whiskey on the shelf. It’s cheap and probably watered down one. No surprise.

 

Ben leans against the counter and looks at the girl who now rubs and dries the glasses from the dishwasher harder than necessary. Her eyes downcast, refusing to humor his gaze. She has dark hair, he notices. The free strands that cover her shoulder slightly wavy and brush softly against her tanned skin.

 

Fuck he must already be drunk.

 

The bartender hands him his glass and Ben picks it up in a swift motion, moving back to the tables, hopefully, a bit more prepared for talking to Bazine than he was before.

 

-

 

The second time he approaches the bar, the other bartender is busy and he sees the girl’s shoulders rise and fall as she submits herself to the serving him. She doesn’t even try to hide her obvious reluctance or disdain.

 

Ben leans lazily over the counter, noticing the slight numbness in his feet that always show when he has had a few glasses of wine.

 

“What?” she says spitefully.

 

Ben is an idiot, an obnoxious idiot with no talent for conversation, as his mother often remarked, so he does the idiot thing and waves the glass in front of her face. One eyebrow raised.

 

She probably knows what he wants, but she refuses his bait, raising an eyebrow back at him, arms crossed. “Yes?”

 

If Ben had maybe not been drinking that whiskey an hour ago and those four glasses of wine as he endured a lecture on tanning lotions from Bazine, he might have been in a better mental state to get his act together and actually say what he wants, instead of being obtuse.

 

However, Ben is drunk, so Ben doesn’t really give a shit.

 

His eyes flick to the name tag on her white button-up shirt. _Rey_.

 

“I think you’re wearing the wrong name tag.” He blurts, pointing at the black plastic card decorating the front of her chest. He ignores the fact that he can see that outline of her blue lace bra.

 

The girl looks down her shirt in confusion and sighs as if she has heard that question a million times. “No. My name _is_ Rey.”

 

Rey pulls away, grabs the adjacent whiskey without even hearing his order. She probably decided to not pick this fight and get rid of him as speedily as possible.

 

However, before Ben has a chance to comment on her name or wrap his big hand around the now filled glass, she punches down a bottle of water in front of him.

 

Maybe she is picking a fight after all?

 

“Listen. It might be _unprofessional_ of me to say this and stuff. It is one thing for you to be a dick to me -” His eyebrows rise in astonishment “- but, there’s no need to sustain the dicking around your perfectly good friends and table mates. Take some advice from someone who bartends weddings a lot. You will regret that whiskey I just poured you. Drink.the.water.”

 

Ben regards the water and stands up to his full height, twirling the bottle from the cap, watching it dent the ivory tablecloth below. Rey watches him with fury and determination in her eyes and maybe he is drunker than he’d care to admit, but he finds himself inexplicably drawn to her face, to her eyes, to her hair, to her mouth -

 

“You are not sitting at the table.” He retorts, throwing his head back towards the party. He keeps looking at her mouth “You have not known these people for as long as I have. I need to drink that whiskey.”

 

Rey rolls her eyes and releases a deeply held sigh. “Whatever you say. I don’t know them. But I think it is a shame that you are here with people who are supposedly your friends and the only way you seem able to get through it, is by getting smashed and trashed. _Healthy_.”

 

He scoffs in distaste. “Maybe that’s just how this friend group works?” _great response Ben._

 

She tilts her face up towards him, eyebrows twirled in amusement. “Maybe you need _new_ friends if drinking is the only way to stand them? -” she replies.

 

He finds her alluring. Her posture is unwavering, arms still crossed. There’s a strip of curly hair neatly folded against her shoulder. It’s distracting. He finds his eyes trail back down to her name tag when -

 

“- or maybe they need new friends if all they have is a drunk overgrown man-child? .”

 

He looks her in the eyes sharply. “ _Excuse me_?”

 

Rey sends him a cheeky smile, a dare. “You heard me.”

 

“I sure did.”

 

He brings the whiskey close to his mouth, watching her. She moves from side to side on her feet, rubbing the hem of her sleeves. Yet, she remains unrelenting.

 

The alcohol tastes bitter and harsh on his tongue, but they don’t break eye contact. Her pupils grow darker and she bites her lips for _just_ a second. But it’s enough for Ben.

 

Swallowing the murky liquid, he leers. “Ah. you do.”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Feel it too.”

 

Rey her eyes the other bartender, who is busy making mojitos. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

 

Are those freckles on her cheek? Ben opens his mouth--

 

“A G&T please!” a female voice next to him exclaims, breaking the reverie. Rey turns quickly on her feet to serve the woman in a wine-colored dress, ignoring him.

 

Ben had been at the party for 3 hours and he had already managed to alienate the staff. 30 minutes short of his record.

 

He twists the cap on the bottle of water, brings it to his mouth and heads to his table.

 

-

 

The speeches are a drag of course. However, the amount of sentimentality and tears he usually finds to dominate these parts are instead reduced to formalities and structure. Ben isn’t really sure why that surprises him. Everything with Hux and Phasma are organized and regulated. He is sure they even have sex scheduled to make it fit into their busy professional lives.

 

He sips from the almost empty water bottle and from the corner of his eyes he can see Rey and her coworker lean across the bar, smiles plastered on their faces as if they actually enjoy what is going on. The guy places an arm around her shoulder, its tender, its familiar. It tugs at something in his chest.

 

Bazine has a napkin held to her eye as she sniffles at Hux’s dull narration of how he and Phasma met. It’s not the true story. Ben knows that. But saying that it was Tinder match that lasted a bit too long and they just grew on each other was hardly the romantic narrative befitting this wedding. Bazine’s hand rests on his forearm and she makes small stroking motions with her red painted nails.

 

Ben leaves it be and pretends to listen to the story, which is definitely a fake love declaration and a fake proposal. He knew that Hux hadn’t gotten on his knee, he knew this wedding has just been an agreement to which suited them both. Fabrication to entertain the crowd and get their attention required an appropriate romantic story.

 

Would saying _“I met her at a wedding, where I called her unprofessional and was a drunk ass”_ be an appropriate romantic story though?

 

Ben stops, blinks, suddenly perplexed by his own train of thought. His lips rest on the plastic rim of the bottle and the now temperate liquid move against mouth.

 

He glances her way once more and looks at Rey. Really looks at her.

 

-

 

“So. manage to sober up and be nice now?” Rey says drying off the counter with a wet cloth to stop the red wine from staining.

 

“Ha.ha. very funny.” Ben replies mockingly and places the empty water bottle next to her hand. She eyes it and flexes her mouth in consideration, before grabbing the bottle and placing it in a crate below the desk.

 

Ben watches her intently and while she works her way around the bar he takes in the range of alcohol on display. “Can I have another bottle?”

 

“You have water at the tables”

 

He looks behind him. They do.

 

Rey is stacking glasses and Ben traces the cracks in the white painted wood, pulling off flecks of paint, revealing the brown oak beneath. Shame. “What if I just wanted to come to talk to you.”

 

Her back is turned to him “I don’t do stuff like that. I’m at work”

 

“If you weren’t?” He’s horrible at flirting. He knows. But something in him begs him to try.

 

Her shoulders stiffen and then lowers in defeat before she gives him a stare over her shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself. Do you want anything or else I’ll have to ask you to return to your table.”

 

Hazel. Her eyes are hazel.

 

“Fine. a rum and coke then.”

 

“I’ll give you a coke, nothing else - you still need to be alive for the dance”

 

“sure.”

 

He accepts it unconditionally and sets to drinking it in silence next to the bar.

 

Ben sips from it, as Hux’ father, Brendol, gives his speech. An odd mix of pride and disappointment. Ben chuckles lightly at the perplexed looks from the guests as Brendol narrates on the multitude of _Armitage’s_ failures over the years.

 

Armitage.

 

“Who names their kid Armitage?” he hears Rey say next to him. Alone in the bar as her coworker walks around refilling glasses with wine.

 

Ben mumbles, “Someone who obviously care very little about their child being teased in school.”

 

She smiles while chewing on her nail as they in reluctant companionship watch the most awkward father-son hug in history unfold before them. Phasma drinks slowly from her glass with sophistication and graze. The girl next to him is nothing like that. While he gets from both her and Phasma that same drive and determination, Rey appears far more upfront and fierce. Like a violent ocean, revealing secret treasures in its wake. Phasma is a tide. Predictable, but destructive under the right circumstances.

 

“Tell me, why are you friends with this man?”

 

“Friends might be an exaggeration. We work together.”

 

Rey rummages through the peanuts next to her and hums in recognition. Picking on up and chewing loudly. He sees her look him over from the corner of the eye. There’s a pink streak across her cheeks. She pops more peanuts into her mouth.

 

“What do you work with? Accounting? You seem a bit stiff.” she remarks.

 

“Stiff?” He gives her a look of disapproval. Rey shrugs.

 

Ben turns his head to face the party once more, setting his jaw. “I work with environmental law. Mostly just suing companies and governments and ensure some level of damage control.”

 

“Do they stop polluting once they give you the money?”

 

“Most don’t. The money is good for the relocation of clients and more.”

 

“Wouldn’t it just be better to - you know - make them stop doing it in the first place?”

 

“it’s not simple like that.”

 

Phasma embraces her father-in-law in an equally strange fashion.

 

“Maybe it is? I mean isn’t their tactic usually just throw money at their problem and keep doing what they are doing?”

 

“Not false, but that’s government talk. My job is legal. Two different things.”

 

“Doesn’t mean you can’t try.”

 

“No, it doesn’t”

 

The coke is empty, but he keeps holding it tightly in his hands. Rey is quiet for a minute and from the corner of his eye, he sees her nurse her hand as if she is attempting to convince herself of something. A beat or two passes and she steels her shoulder in resolution and says.

 

“That’s why I am going to be an engineer. To make a difference. To give people something they can use, something that helps.”

 

Ben turns to her, curious.

 

“you’re studying?”

 

“Mhmm.” Flicking a peanut into her mouth “Working the summer bartending weddings so I can, you know, afford to go out and drink beers too throughout the year and maybe also not starve.”

 

“Your parents don’t support you?”

 

“It’s a personal thing”

 

“What do you me-“

 

She straightens her back, avoiding his searching eyes and pretends to look for something in the bar. “Listen, Mr. If you want to touch any of this delicious alcohol before you head off to dance with you table date, I suggest you let it go.” Her white painted nails pull at the tablecloth.

 

“It’s Ben.”

 

“What?”

 

“My name is Ben.”

 

“Okay?”

 

Their conversation is numbed by the party breaking into an applause as the speech finally ends. Rey and Ben join the chorus, although slightly less enthusiastic. Waiters start circling the tables, removing the plates, signaling that the main course is about to begin.

 

Bazine waves to Ben for him to come to join the table. He turns to give Rey a _please help me look_ , but she instead flashes him a small reassuring smile while mouthing _you can do it._

 

He feels a butterfly flap its wings once in the pit of his stomach.

 

-

 

"My dear wife. This union between us gives me great happiness because ours is a MOST desirable match!" Hux goes, as Phasma nods affirmatively. It is a speech said with conviction, with seriousness, but Ben finds himself not to be the only one in the audience who titters, because of the innuendo.

 

He sees Hux notice the crowd’s unrest and the vein underneath his eye twitch. Ben knows Hux’s pissed because that’s not what he meant.

 

Despite the cringing feeling, when he sees Phasma take Hux’s hand, Ben finds himself suddenly envious. Suddenly sick with yearning for something like that. The simple act calms this mess of a man, which is Hux, and Ben wishes he too knew someone who by just the slightest touch could bring him peace. Hux and Phasma don’t care about the crowd. To them only they matter (in some twisted narcissistic way), but that makes them good for each other. That’s why Phasma can calm him because all he cares for is her opinion. Her’s and her’s alone.

 

4 hours to go and he can go to his room and indulge in some personal self-loathing time.

 

-

 

“Well, well, welcome back!” Rey exclaims, putting down her phone. Ben raises a hand apologetically.

 

“Indeed, indeed. Am I sober enough for my whiskey now? Also, some sparkling wine for my table companion over there” He says, motioning towards Bazine who is slightly drunk, beaming at him.

 

Rey smiles.

 

Ben knows he isn’t as drunk enough for it to be an exaggeration how beautiful that smile is and he finds his own lips tugging at the corner. She notices. He sees that.

 

As Rey opens the wine with a pop and Ben watches her pour the wine gently into the tall rimmed glass. He motions with his head towards the happy couple. “I can’t even begin to think about what their kids will look like. They are insufferable enough on their own.” Rey doesn’t respond, but she gives him a _be nice look_ , shaking her head, her smile never once faltering.

 

“Giant red-haired insufferable _my dad is a lawyer_ boys…” He continues.

 

“And you aren’t?”

 

Ben blinks “My hair is black.”

 

“So you admit that you are a giant insufferable _my dad is a lawyer_ boy?”

 

“I didn’t say that”

 

“But you are a _little bit_ aren’t you?” Her teeth show, as her smile slowly transforms into a grin.

 

Ben rolls his eyes.

 

“Then I’d have to be a _my mother is a lawyer_ boy”

 

Rey grins. “Oh, so I bet you think you're a feminist then?”

 

Ben turns to look at her, eyes narrowed in confusion. “I don’t see the connection here?”

 

“Oh, you see -” she says twirling a straw between her fingers. “ - subverting tropes, expectations, turning things upside down.”

 

“I don’t see anything wrong with that?”

 

“Do you have a pussy riot hat?”

 

“What?”

 

“Do you go to protests?”

 

“I have sponsored a fe-”

 

“I bet you are all like ‘gender is a construct’?”

 

“Actually, sure. I believe it is”

 

The straw flips out of her hands and lands in the grass in front of him. Rey leans over the counter to look at it and Ben can faintly smell something close to sweat. It is a nice smell.

 

He bends down to pick up the straw. “Gender has little importance to me. I’ll judge someone by their skills, their competences and approach to life. Sex has nothing to do with that.” Ben works his jaw as he contemplates his words. “That’s at least what I have gathered from watching my mother’s career. So - you - see -” Ben smiles “I am a feminist by that definition - and I would call myself that, if you need to put a label on it.”

 

He presents the straw to her. Rey is silent, carefully taking the straw from his hand. No longer smiling, but instead searching his face as if he is a puzzle. A puzzle of many mismatching pieces that have yet to form any clear picture of who he really is. Ben finds himself all of a sudden uneasy and unsure.

 

So he coughs into his hand and glances to his left. “So, Rey, I am starting to believe that you may have insulted me more than I have insulted you at this point” She doesn’t reply to that, but he can see the corners of her mouth lift in an amused smile. Her shoulder’s drop as if something he said makes her trepidation and convictions melt away.

 

“We can call it a truce then” Ben remarks.

 

“A truce?” She hums.

 

“Yes. You give me my whiskey and I won’t question your bartending skills”

 

While he hears her sigh, the smile dressing her lips doesn’t disappear. Her fingers grasp the stem of the glass of wine and places it in front of him, while gracefully reaching back to pick a bottle from the shelf. The expensive whiskey. Good choice.

 

She grabs a thick-rimmed glass and before she tips the bottle, she tilts her head in challenge.

 

“Only if you apologize.”

 

“Apologize?”

 

“For being rude earlier”

 

“I was rude?”

 

“ _Ha.ha._ yes. you called me unprofessional in front of all your ‘friends’. Maz doesn’t like that impression. I could get fired for stuff like that.”

 

“She wouldn’t fire you for something like that.”

 

“For the rich, famous and beautiful she would. If that is what makes them come back to this place.”

 

Her hand rests on the glass. She fills it slowly, her eyes digging into his. Ben’s gaze drops to her hand and follows how her fingers trace the crystal dents decorating it side. He can see the corrosive skin and scars - hers have not been an easy life.

 

“If that is the case. Then I do agree that it was inconsiderate of me.”

 

“It was”

 

“Forgive me” He gently reaches for the glass and with intent touches the hand holding it. Rey pulls back as if burned and he sees a pink streak cover her cheeks.

 

Something passes between them and Ben all of sudden has no desire to go back to the party. He has no desire to be a good dinner guest. All he desires is to grab this woman by her hand and run away - away from all of this.

 

“I forgive you…”

 

As if by _magical_ intervention, her coworker shows up, Finn, he can read from the name tag. Maz wants her to help in the kitchen.

 

Rey gives Ben an incomprehensible look before she wanders off to the main house.

 

Ben just watches her.

 

-

 

The DJ, called DJ, plays an odd mix of 90’s classics and modern hip-hop.

 

Bazine asks him to dance. He doesn’t dance.

 

Rey tells him to dance with Bazine as he goes for more liquid courage.

 

So Ben does it.

 

He looks back to see if she watches him, but all she does is chat with her coworker and clean the cocktails glasses from dust.

 

Bazine’s hands are cold as he takes her hand into his. He recognizes the look in her eyes and while she is attractive he just isn’t into it.

 

A traitorous daydream keeps pestering him as he twirls his dancing partner around. How he really would rather wrap his arms around Rey; lean close to her ear, whisper sweet nothings and feel how she would melt into him. Maybe he could kiss her.

 

But he dances with Bazine.

 

-

 

They cut the cake with a medieval sword. A wedding gift from Phasma’s royal clients in Europe.

 

Of course.

 

It's chocolate with raspberry. He hates that it is his favorite.

 

-

 

Eventually, Bazine stops pestering him and joins some of the bridesmaids on the dance floor. Ben slumps in his chair, arms crossed, eyeing the watch on his arm. 2 hours to go.

 

The drink Rey served him sits mostly untouched and Ben has taken to lazily swirling the brown liquid while parked at the table. His phone lights his face in a blue shade as he swipes between different apps in an attempt to pass time. He avoids Facebook and instead answers emails. There’s one from Snoke, one from Jakku university, an invite to another wedding, a message from his mother…

 

“I thought I told you to be nice to your friends”. He looks up to find Rey smiling down at him. Her arms cradling a plastic grate filled to the brim with empty bottles and dirty glasses.

 

The disco ball from the dance floor bathes her in a soft pink light. The moving freckles from the ‘night sky’ laser machine make her look like that _one time_ he truly, _truly_ saw the Milky Way in all its glory. She smiles at him. Something he a few hours ago thought nothing of and also believed never would happen. There are women at this function who are beautiful, elegant and poised -but nothing compares to the sight before him. Rey looks divine - even in her bartender outfit and makeup-less face. Like something out of this world.

 

Ben is for a moment taken aback and merely stares at her.

 

Something is different now. He knows it. A heavy fluttering sensation settles in his stomach.

 

He gapes like a fish out of water, breathing in heavily. Warmth spreads to the top of his ears and he no longer feels quite like a 32-year-old successful lawyer, but an insecure teenage boy. “I…I…”

 

Rey adjusts the grate in her arm and her smile widens at the sight of a flustered Ben. She motions her head towards the crowd “I mean, shouldn’t you be out dancing with the rest of the party?”

 

He feels his Adam’s apple bob and shakes his head. “I am not much of a dancer.”

 

“Shame. I am sure I’ve spotted a few girls eyeing you over there - or one guy if that’s what you are into.” She stretches her neck to look over the crowd of people.

 

“I would dance with you -” He sees Rey flush red and grow stiff in her body. “- just you.”

 

“Have you been sneaking behind the bar when we are not looking?” sarcasm. He does that too when nervous.

 

“Is it so hard to believe that I would like that?”

 

“Ah...eh. maybe. It doesn’t matter. I’m working now” She lifts the grate in a confirming motion, though unsure and stiff, she never stops smiling. “Also, hitting on the staff is so _Downtown Abbey_ of you!”

 

Ben leans back in his seat, places the phone on the table face down and takes her in. “Are you implying I’m a haughty English lord?”

 

Rey giggles. “You are at least the closest to being one compared to everyone here. Don’t think I didn’t google you after you harassed me the first time at the bar. Descended of the _Naberries and Organas_? That is basically royalty.”

 

“Technically I am a prince.”

 

She blinks and then her smile breaks into a flash of white teeth. Grinning, “Of course you are. It makes so much sense. “

 

Ben furrows his brows “It does?”

 

Rey finally relents and puts the heavy crate down, placing her hands on her waist – why does her smile seem brighter than the moon? “That aura of pompous self-importance, the I am not joining the commotion, I will sit here on my own judging people - don’t disagree, that is pretty princely of you.”

 

“You make me sound like a monster”

 

“I didn’t say that”

 

“Ah, but you do, don’t you?”

 

“No...I don’t.”

 

“You wouldn’t be the first to think it.”

 

“It’s just a joke.”

 

“Do you find me pompous then?”

 

“No - “ Her smile falters and she drags a hand across her neck “- honestly. Things like these make me uncomfortable too. It makes me anxious.”

 

“I’m not anxious.”

 

“Uncomfortable then.”

 

“No.”

 

Her shoulders rise in a defeated sigh and she bends down to pick up the grate “Okay. I’ll stop bothering you then. I need to get this back. I was just trying to make you feel less lonely over here.”

 

“Thank you.” He says hurriedly “I ...appreciate it.” Ben turns to pick up his cake and lifts it toward her “Do you want it? I’m not sure I have the stomach for it.”

 

Stunned, she still shakes her head. “Ah. No thank you. I’ll steal some later when everyone is gone from the kitchen. Also, Maz won’t pay me if I start mingling with the guests and eat cake”

 

“I wish you could stay” He blurts. Idiot.

 

He sees her swallow at his sincerity. He sees her shift on her feet at his blunt confession. He sees her look away from him, a red streak covering her freckled cheeks. “Thank you –“ She inhales a long deep breath. “- but I really think you should hang with your friends instead. They are the reason you are here.”

 

_But not the reason why I haven’t gone home_ yet he wants to say.

 

“Yes. Uh…enjoy yourself.”

 

She shakes her head at him then, her smile returning with force “you too” and walks back to the kitchen.

 

-

 

Ben spends the remainder of the party in suspended animation, fairly unsure about what had just transpired these past hours. He’s pretty sure he didn’t notice her at all in the beginning. But now that he has, he finds himself incessantly drawn to her.

He watches her remove the empty glasses and bottles at the table. He watches her fend off drunk suitors. He watches her laugh at a joke her coworker said. He watches her send him fleeting glances only to look away. Ben finds himself unable to not notice her any longer.

-

They wave at newly-weds as they enter the white limousine 1 hour before midnight. There are whistles, heckles and clapping as Hux gives his wife a chaste kiss on the lips. Ben stands at the top of the stairs to the white mansion, where he’ll be spending the night. His arms crossed, he gives them a half-hearted wave, as the limo drives them further away from this mess of a crowd.

Poe surrenders and throws up in a bush next to the lake.

Yup. Ben is going to bed.

He opens the door to the house and flicks the key between his fingers. He had considered looking for Rey, but she had made it pretty clear that whatever existed between them, weren’t going to happen. So, he would go to the kitchen, steal a bottle of something and go to bed.

Except said person was standing alone in the cleaned down stainless steel kitchen, eating leftovers with her back against the counter. Ben stops in the doorway, hand twirling the key stilling abruptly.

Rey gapes at him, the fork stopping _just_ at her lips.

Yup. There goes his resolve.

She chews quickly as she lifts her plate in an invitation. “Hungry?”

“Sure…”

He moves up next to her in an almost agonizing pace and watches her fiddle with a plate and pile a variety of different leftovers for him. When he reaches her, she glances up at him and hands him a single fork, before settling back against the counter. He mimics her posture and picks up the plate and begins to eat.

It is not a companionable silence. It feels like a calm before a storm. As a kettle slowly reaching the boiling point.

Ben feels his heart beat fast in his chest.

“I lied” He begins, resting the fork on the white porcelain plate. “I _was_ nervous before. These things do make me nervous.” He feels her eyes on him, but Ben finds it hard to return her gaze. “You make me nervous,” he whispers.

Rey inhales sharply and quickly replies, “So you weren’t just mean because you are a haughty English prince?” He hears the smile in her voice and a warmth begins to spread in his feet. “No. Maybe a bit. Mostly no”

“I’m glad you told me. All this time I thought it was because…I dunno, was doing something wrong? That you didn’t like me-“

“- I do like you.” Now he does look at her and he sees himself reflected in her hazel brown eyes. They shimmer in the dim kitchen light. He hears her draw a deep heavy breath and almost doesn’t register the sound of her putting down her plate.

She steps closer to him, their knees almost bump and reaches out with her left hand to take his plate. “But you don’t know me.” She whispers.

Rey softly moves the plate and places it so it sits right next to hers.

Ben is 32 years old, but his heart stutters in his chest like all of this is a first time “I want to know you.”

She’s so close to him, her free hand rests on top of his frantically beating heart. “me too” it’s a whisper. A promise.

But all he hears are their pants, the gulps and exhales. Shallow. Quick.

Rey’s finger trail to his neck and gently pushes his face down to hers.

She kisses him.

\- Everything short circuits.

Ben has kissed women before. Not like a lot, but enough for him to know what he is doing.

But nothing had really prepared him for this. How he seems to have no clue about where to put his hands or how to kiss her. How he feels so completely out of control that he goes blind - so instead he settles for just letting his hands roam her body and let her set the course. He feels her melt into him and when he grabs her roughly by the waist, she lets out a soft low noise from the back of her throat.

Rey’s kisses are like sunrises, like open skies and the morning on birthdays.

\- he feels her part her mouth and brush her tongue against his lips. Ben is delirious.

It feels out of control. It feels like nothing he has ever done. They tug at each other’s hair, groaning as they slip their tongues past lips – and his pants are so god damn tight. He needs more. He needs all of it.

Ben tears his mouth away and bends down to devour her throat, nips and bites at her pulse points. He feels her squirm against him, pulling at his shirt. She sounds out of breath, a series of curses and gasps escape her lips. _More_. He needs more. He traces his hand to the curve of her ass, grabs it hard, and drags her closer. Fuck. She must do squats.

Does she feel as overwhelmed as he does?

With a swift motion she pulls away and starts to tug at his blazer. _Off, off_ he hears her rasp and he obliges. Once his left arm is free, he quickly embraces her at the waist and sets to devouring her mouth. Moaning at how their lips intertwine, so perfectly. So right and it is so _hot_ in here.

It is no longer a daydream. He knows. He’s going to fuck this woman.

He doesn’t give a shit.

“Let me touch you” Ben hears himself mumble. It sound distant. Like somewhere else. But she seems to hear him and adheres to his words, because she grabs his hand and pushes it under her skirt to her center. It’s so warm. It’s so soft. It’s so wet. She’s so wet for him. He feels he dick spasm and he grinds at her to release some of the tension.

“Yes. _Please_ touch me” She whispers between kisses.

He can’t and won’t ever deny this woman.

Rey’s panties are not damp, they are wet and something heavy and hot settles in his stomach as he traces a finger down her entire slit, then back up. He’s so hard, so turned on and he hasn’t even seen _anything_ of her yet. “Oh god. Please. Please do it” she gasps at his shoulder. She moves her center against his hand, begging him with her mouth and her body.

He can’t and won’t _deny_ her and forces the soft fabric aside and slips in a long finger. Oh. Fucking maker. She’s so tight.

“Ah! Shit!” she moans, clenching her walls around him.

Ben could cum in his pants from just listening to her. Fuck. Those needy little voices. Voices that seems to come so involuntary, when he fucks her with his hand. They buck against each other in this weird imitation of sex. He inserts another finger and punches against her, circling her clit in a fluid motion. Rey half moans, half gasps.

“Fuck. Shit. Why are you so good at this.” She almost screeches.

He wants her so bad. But he settles for making her cum for now. He needs her to cum like this. And when she does he’ll rip off her panties, lift her up the counter, with her legs around him and fuck her till she’s sore. He doesn’t care that they are in an industrial kitchen and that this might be completely unsanitary and violates like a bunch of health codes.

And when he’s done fucking her, he’s going to scoop her into his arms, and take her to his bed, where he’ll worship that sweet sweet –

CRASH!

They both still, mouths hovering over one another, as they look around them.

Nothing. His hand still inside her, they seem for a short moment awake and aware of what they are doing. Rey looks up at him in a sudden burst of nervousness and gives him the sweetest most insecure smile. Ben knows he will never forget that smile and dips down to capture her lips once more. She moans in pleasure as they resume the kissing.

“Rey!?” Rey pulls away fast, dragging his arm out from underneath.

“Shit. Its Maz. Fuck. You need to go.”

His brain hasn’t really caught up. “what?”

Rey’s hair is partially undone and her face is flushed red. She looks beautiful. “Fraternizing with guests at a wedding isn’t really in my job description. You need to go.”

“Ah. Yes. Sure. Of course.” Ben is not here. Ben is somewhere else and just follow orders. He straightens his back and bends over backwards to pick up his discarded blazer

“Rey!?” The voice of an older woman draws nearer.

Rey quickly turns to him and grabs him by the cheeks, before pressing a hard kiss to his lips. _Thank you_ , she murmurs and Ben’s stomach is full to the brim with happiness and ecstasy. Of love and affection. _Now go_ , and he does. Slipping out by the backdoor, just in time to hear what must be Maz yelling. “Did you let the cat in again? He just ruined a perfectly good va-“

 

-

Ben lies still in his bed hands resting on his stomach, awake, still clothed, his gaze fixed on the decorated ceiling. He keeps listening intently for a gentle knock. For him to rise to his feet, open the door and see her face. See how she would smile up at him. For Rey to slip into his room and slowly but surely let him have her.

But she doesn’t.

So Ben lies in his bed awake, for hours, feeling frustrated – but most of all, sad.

-

He doesn’t find her in the morning either. _She went home at 3 am_ , Maz, a short statured woman, informs him. Giving him a weird look as his shoulders slump and he gives into to the disappointment pooling in his chest.

He packs his stuff, waves goodbye to Poe and drives to the airport.

Why didn’t he get her number? Why didn’t he even get her last name?

At the airport he skims through the countless wedding invitations in hopes that one will be hosted at that location again. He finds none.

-

It’s a cold November morning in New York, when he makes his way to a lecture on resilience, agency, and accountability related to climate change at Jakku University. It snows a little, the first snow of the year, and he is happy he decided to take the train to avoid the traffic.

It’s his first time lecturing at Jakku university and while it practically exist in his backyard, he has never once been to the campus itself. Merely grazing by on his bike, in his car or on foot.

It’s his first time doing this lecture too, but the university had seemed pretty keen on him talking on accountability, diving into his personal experiences, rather than investigating the technically aspects of the law. It made him anxious, nervous, but yet here he was – flakes of snow in his hair, walking into the old 18th century buildings, feeling a bit excited too.

The lecture hall is far from full. It’s cold and damp and he eyes the fireplace in the corner, wishing for someone to light it. He places his notes on the desk, and begins to set up his computer, when a person steps up to the desk. He frowns, finding the timing a bit inconvenient as the HDMI cable refuses to cooperate.

“You need a hand with that?”

Ben’s gaze flick up and there she is.

Rey.

Dressed in a yellow jumper, hair tied back as she was at the wedding. He feels his heart skip a beat, but he can’t make his mouth work.

She smiles shyly and fumbles with her hands. “Hi”

“Hi”

From her backpack she fumbles and pulls out a flyer for his lecture, blurting “I saw this on the board – and like this is totally not my field – but I…I feel like we never really managed to… _finish_ this.”

It’s suddenly hard to breath because he has literally struggled to get her eyes and mouth and sweet voice out of his head for almost 4 months. “Ah. Yes. Eh. Well, it is open for everyone so…”

Silence.

The projector stars whirring and the screen flicks to life as the red colored power point slowly emerges behind him. He doesn’t notice.

Rey exhales and steels herself. “I was really debating coming here, because it really _really_ wasn’t professional of me what I did back…at that wedding– and I mean, you were drunk and-“

“No! I weren’t drunk! – eh, okay maybe a little – but not that drunk.” He interrupts, and at that her mouth closes and opens, as if her rehearsed speech falls apart in her head.

He notices some of the students beginning to put down their phones in order to listen in on their conversation and he coughs, “Ah. Um. Rey. I’m _really_ glad you are here. Really. I…I have thought a lot about you since Florida.” He swallows. “Do…do you want coffee afterwards?”

Her smile is the sun and he knows now, that he would be a fool to not do this. Whatever it is.

-

The end.


End file.
